


Fly By Night

by Attalander



Category: The Music Man (1962)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Harold needs to get a grip, Identity Issues, Romance, Weddings, babies ever after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24359833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attalander/pseuds/Attalander
Summary: “Professor Harold Hill” was created as a mask, a way for Gregory to earn his dishonest living. Now, he’s finally got a reason to go straight... but old habits are hard to break.AKA: 3 Times Gregory Ran Away + 1 Time Harold Came Back
Relationships: Harold Hill/Marian Paroo
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Gregory, alias Prof. Harold Hill ran away was on the day of his wedding.

The old church was decked out in roses and streamers and all the old ladies were chattering like hens.

“‘Bout time that Marian settled down... and with such a nice boy.”

“Surprised he’d take her, knowing the truth about her as he does. I told him didn’t I? Right after he arrived in this town I told him.”

Gregory overheard everything but didn’t stop to correct them, didn’t stop for _anything_. He was sweating through the collar of his nicest suit, eyes darting from side to side like a hunted animal... he’d been caught, trapped, this was the only way out.

Panic swelled up in his gut as he rounded the corner to the train station. The next train was in 10 minutes... 10 minutes and he was away, he was free...

Right?

No, not right. Marian was back there, in the dress her mother had spent the last month sewing. He imagined her face, pink-cheeked and glowing, radiant as the summer sun. Winthrop in his little suit with the rings, Amaryllis with her basketful of flowers. If he got on that train, he would be abandoning everyone and everything he’d ever wanted.

Still, he shook. The panic was irrational, but so deeply ingrained. He fought against years, so many years of survival instinct. Being tied down meant the end, tar and feathers, capture and jail... how could he suddenly forget his whole life and become an honest man?

He wanted to, how he _wanted_ to. Marion’s beautiful voice, her kind eyes... soft lips and the sound of her laugh. She took none of his nonsense and gave him everything. His thoughts drifted to their wedding night...

For the first time Gregory had waited, kept his hands from wandering and his touches chaste. Marion _deserved_ that, deserved everything... she deserved better than an old con man with nothing to offer but himself.

“Hey! Hey Harold!”

He jumped, not even having noticed Marcellus until the man grabbed his shoulder. Gregory jumped, staring at his old friend with wide eyes.

“I can’t...” Gregory trembled, barely able to get the words out. What had happened to his silver tongue? “Dammit, you know me Marce! I can’t _do_ this.”

“Greg,” Marcellus looked him in the face, speaking his birth name with quiet intensity. “I do know ya. And ya know what I know? I know ya’ve never wanted anything anythin’ more in yer whole damn _life_!”

The shorter man poked Gregory hard in the chest, right over his racing heart.

“What if...” his throat was so tight. “What if I mess it up?”

“Then Marion’ll roll ‘er eyes and call ya a fool,” Marce said with a grin. “And then ya’ll make up. Just the way ya always do.”

The New Yorker passed Gregory a thoroughly illegal cigarette and pack of matches with a wink.

Gregory nodded, slipping the gifts surreptitiously into a pocket. As much as he wanted the tobacco, Marion would smell it in his breath, taste it when they kissed. She deserved better... but she knew what she was getting, and she still wanted it. Somehow, by the grace of all that was holy, she wanted _him_.

Squaring his shoulders, Gregory walked back into town.


	2. Chapter 2

“Congratulations!” Mrs. Paroo grinned at her son in law, smile nearly wide enough to crack her cheeks. “Doctor says Marian’s pregnant! Yer goin’ ta be a father!”

The emotions hit Gregory like a freight train, pride and joy and shock and absolute terror that grew to eclipse everything else. Him, a _father_? How could... no, no this wasn’t happening, it could _not_ be happening.

He let instinct take over, spinning out a speech that left Mrs. Paroo blushing in grand-maternal bliss, before making his excuses and two-timing it back to the house.

The fear was normal, natural, an inherited trait. Running out on one’s spouse and children was practically a family tradition. Gregory was just honoring his own half-remembered father as he pulled the battered suitcase from beneath his marriage bed.

Gregory was just shoving an un-folded shirt into his case when he heard the door open.

“I knew I’d find you here.” Marian’s voice was full of some emotion he couldn’t identify, not anger but... 

“Something came up,” Gregory babbled, fumbling his socks out of the drawer. “I need to go into Des Moines for a couple of-“

“Harold...” a hand lay on top of his, stilling it. When he looked up, Marian’s eyes were shining. “I know you’re scared.”

“I don’t know what you-“ he began, then sighed. What was the point in lying to the one person it had never worked on? “I’m not scared... I... I’m _terrified_.”

“Me too.” Marian reached up to touch her husband’s cheek.

“You?” Gregory chuckled weakly. “You’re not scared of anything... besides, I thought you wanted to be a mother.”

“I do,” Marian’s voice was soft, warm. “I can want something and still be scared of it, you know.”

Gregory’s fingers were trembling. He took one of Marian’s hands in both of his, clutching onto her like a lifeline.

“How could this _happen_...?” Gregory asked. He felt lost, so lost. “I can’t raise a child, I’m just an old crook-“

“And I’m an old maid,” Marian replied, squeezing his hands. “The town spinster, remember? As for how it happened,” she raised a sardonic eyebrow. “I’m pretty certain you were there.”

Gregory chuckled, blinking sudden wetness out of his eyes. Marian’s eyes were shining too, bright as the evening star.

“I’m living a lie...” he whispered, hanging his head. “Harold isn’t even _real_ , you _know_ that... so how can you...?”

“Because I didn’t fall in love with the lie.” Marian replied. “I fell in love with a good, kind man who just needed an opportunity to show it.”

“You’re too good to me,” Gregory breathed, pulling Marian to his chest with trembling arms. “How... how are we going to do this?”

“We’ll figure it out,” she said, arms folding around her husband’s back so gently, like she was holding a butterfly. “You’ve always been good at improvising”.

Gregory chuckled and kissed her hair. Maybe everything was going to work out after all?


	3. Chapter 3

Gregory felt like his heart was going to explode.

He needed a drink, a smoke, a kick to the head... _something_ to dull the sharp-clawed panic digging into at his guts. He could hear yelling upstairs, Marion’s voice and a cry of “push!”

He’d known it was coming, seen Marian’s belly growing week by week, held her close and felt the tiny kicks... but this was real. Any minute now, he was going to be a _father_ , he was going to have a _child_ , he was going to...

Gregory wanted to be upstairs, holding his wife’s hand. He wanted to be far away, running as fast as he could. He wanted someone he could talk to, someone who knew what to say, how to help him... but neither he nor Marian had any adult male relatives, and Marcellus was out of town. The only other man exiled from the birthing chamber was little Winthrop, who was of zero help. The kid was about to be an uncle and he wasn’t even out of short pants!

“I need some fresh air,” Gregory said to Winthrop, who sat wide-eyed as he listened to his sister’s screams upstairs. The boy just nodded, looking like a landed fish.

Gregory strode out the door, shaking hands shoved into his pockets. He didn’t have his suitcase, no clothes, just the contents of his wallet and a racing heart. Still, he’d started at rock bottom before... he could hop a train, change his name again. In a few days he’d be lost in the teeming crowds of Chicago or Boston, fleecing suckers and spinning yarns for the gullible.

Enough of this Harold Hill persona, enough pretending to be respectable. He was Gregory, always had been, and there was no point playing house anymore...

Gregory stopped in the street, breathing hard. Horses trundled by, hauling loads while the locals walked around him, minding their own damn business.

What was he doing? His wife, _his_ wife was upstairs in _their_ home, giving birth to _their_ child... He’d always imagined that if he ever “settled down” it would be with another grifter, the Bonnie to his Clyde. How had he even wound up here, a respectable man in a respectable town, ready to have yet one more shackle weighing him down...

Ready?

Maybe he _was_ ready. He’d survived this long, maybe even thrived. He had Sunday dinners with his in-laws, town picnics with crotchety but good-hearted folks. Marian had taught him to read sheet music and the band was actually in tune some of the time.

He was happy.

The fear still fought its way down his throat, churning in his stomach, but Gregory gritted his teeth.

No, not Gregory.

Harold Hill turned back towards his house, taking the front steps in a single bound and slamming the door open. He was just in time to hear a scream from upstairs, the loud, whining cry of brand new life.

The midwife’s face, shiny and triumphant, appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Come on, Mr. Hill!” She called, tired and proud of a job well done. “Come up and meet your son!”

Harold grinned from ear to ear, running up to join his family. He would never look back again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently the 1910’s was a time when it was about 50/50 between midwives and doctors attending births. Of course, this is River City, so if it can be done the old fashioned way it’s GONNA be done the old fashioned way!


End file.
